Candles provide me with great comfort as an introvert. There’s something about that incandescent glow, even in the darkest of darknesses, which means even more than a natural light source. It’s as if it’s a fundamental appreciation, finding the light in darkness, when one knows one isn’t naturally occurring. This was why Prometheus, tied to a rock, suffered the torture by an eagle everyday, as penance for giving humans the gift of fire. The key to civilization.
When you think of survival, fire is the most critical thing; Jack London’s To Build a Fire speaks to this.
And that’s why I love hygge, that tradition finding comfort during the darkest seasons by creating & surrounding oneself with light––in all forms. Sure, there’s flame & fire, but there’s also those people who become sources of light to us. Their love, hope, kindness, care… These beacons of light illuminate our paths through our snarled thickets of emotions.
When I take stock of all of my recent life changes, I’m finding myself grieving the loss of certain things, whether it be the people I love (apart from whom I now live thousands of miles & two time zones) or the farm & gardens I’ve grown to treasure or even the unique curmudgeonly culture of the Northeast in general.
As light returns in Utah, enlongating the days & bringing back life to the landscape, I find myself reflecting on that practice of creating light when we need it most. Dumbledore’s wise words ring in my ears as a powerful strategy for overcoming the gloom when it lingers too long. There’s a balance to be found when we introverts cocoon & retract into solitude. That quiet & time alone, true, is essential for us to recharge & even survive; yet, all things in moderation becomes an important truth here as well & one we mustn’t forget.
If I linger too long in my solitary way, several uncomfortable feelings surface, & the rogue wave of the big lonely can dash things to bits. Like The Nothing that devours dreams & imagination.
Perhaps that’s why, as a good Catholic girl, I’d volunteer to set up the luminarias around our church during the darkest days of the year in December? Seeing all those paper bags glowing gave me a sense of comfort. I feel the same way about the sky lanterns in Taiwan, carrying people’s wishes to the heavens. Or lighthouses & their guiding flames, guiding travelers to safety.
The key life skill I’m still trying to master is being able to conjure that light in the darkness, to cast “Lumos” & see it appear magically for me when I need it most. For there is a beautiful kind of magic in manifesting that illumination, in whatever form it takes shape. And that beauty can only be appreciated in the dark.
Let there be light.
